Ripening
by windtear
Summary: After Edward Elric returns from the other side of the Gate, Russell Tringham has to decide what to do about his life. Shounenai RussellEd. Complete.


Ripening 

by Raye Johnsen

* * *

"Fullmetal Alchemist" is copyright Arukawa Hiromu and associated parties, not me.

**WARNINGS:** This fic is AU, based in the anime, set post-series and features a yaoi couple. If any of those things are not to your taste, please click the Back button **NOW**.

* * *

It was quite the party, Russel Tringham thought, looking around at the people gathered to welcome Edward Elric back home to this side of the Gate. There was a majority of military personnel, of course, but a fair few non-military alchemists, several assortedly-decorative young ladies and various other people. Watching Ed drift from person to person, greeting each as non-effusively as every other, Russel was suddenly, unwelcomely convinced of one thing: _Ed wasn't acting_. He was as happy to see Commander Hawkeye and General Mustang as he was to see a girl with pink hair named Rozei and, yes, Russel himself.

_/I guess this answers that question,/ _Russel thought glumly, hiding behind his cup of punch. He had thought... but if this didn't prove that he'd been achingly _stupid_ to think that he hadn't read too much into a few caresses and a stolen night, then he didn't know what would.

At least he hadn't completely embarrassed himself. He was the only one who knew how deeply he felt. Even Fletcher only thought he had made good friends with the Fullmetal Alchemist.

Talking of whom... Russel quietly walked up behind his younger brother, surprising him in mid-yawn. "Hey, Fletcher," he said. "Ready to call it a night?"

"Nnn--" Fletcher yawned again. "Well..."

"Let's go say goodbye, then."

But they couldn't get close enough to Ed to do that. The only ones they could speak to were other guests, Alphonse Elric and General Mustang. The Plant Alchemists bade both a pleasant farewell, and Russell said to Al, "We'll be leaving on the 11 o'clock train tomorrow morning. We'd really like to see you and Ed again before we go, though, if that's all right."

"Sure," Al replied. "If I can get Brother up in time, we'll meet you and see you off at the station."

"Don't short yourself on sleep, Al," Fletcher told his friend.

"I won't," the older boy assured him. "You're yawning badly. Better go!"

"All right, you worrywart," Fletcher said, and both Tringhams left the room quietly.

* * *

The next morning, both the Tringhams stood on the platform until the whistle went for the last passengers for the train. Both boys were silent as they climbed aboard and took their seats.

"They didn't come." Fletcher's voice was low and quiet.

Russel looked over at his brother. "We did tell Alphonse not to get up if he hadn't had enough sleep," he pointed out. "It's a bit much to tell him to take care of himself and then complain when he does!"

"I know," Fletcher replied, "but..."

"He's probably kicking himself for missing you, anyway," Russel added. /_The way I wish Ed would and I know he won't,/_ he added to himself.

"Yes, he would," Fletcher agreed. "Still..."

"Still?" Russel prompted.

Fletcher blushed. "I just... Al had all these really cool stories, you know? Of the places he'd been and the things he'd done, and I just... I wanted to hear more." He sighed. "We're stuck in Xenotime..."

That was when Russel was struck by his idea. In later eras, when scholars came to study the intertwined lives of the four most influential and renowned alchemists of the age, opinion would be eternally divided between it being the wisest and the most foolish thing the Evergreen Alchemist ever did in his life.

"We don't have to be," Russel said slowly.

"What, brother?" Fletcher said, puzzled.

"This train... this train stops at other towns between Xenotime and Central," Russel told his brother, feeling a strange fizzing rising up along his veins. "We can get out at one of them and send a telegram to Belsio to tell him we're all right, and then I'll get a short-term job. We'll do research in the local library in the evenings, and then after a while we'll go on to somewhere else, I'll get another job, we'll do more research... it'd probably be better for our research too. We don't _have_ to stay in Xenotime."

"Could we do it?" Fletcher asked, the excitement in his voice rising.

"Why not?" Russel asked, the fizzing reaching his ears. "If the Elrics could do it, we can."

Fletcher began to smile. "So, where shall we go, Brother?"

Russel spread the rail map out on his lap. "Pick a town, Fletcher."

* * *

A week later, Russel looked up from where he was sitting, bent over the treatise he'd found on the medicinal uses of poisonous plants. Fletcher had stood up and was staring out of the little window that was set in the wall of the small library.

There hadn't been much in the town library of Whitesands that was of much use to an alchemist, so Russel was encouraging Fletcher to do some general reading as well as studying the few alchemical texts there. They were mostly the classic herbals every plant-specialist knew by heart, but there were a few based around the local plant life that the two boys had fallen on like ravening wolves. Russel estimated that he and Fletcher would probably stay another week, and then move on.

The short-term job he'd found, as barman at the local public-house, was proving an education in more ways than one. In five days he'd learned to mix thirty different drinks, had his shoulder sobbed on four times by heartbroken lovers of both genders, had his vocabulary expanded in a way he was not very comfortable with, and been hit on more times than he wanted to think about. Still, the money was good, he and Fletcher were getting free board above the bar, and he was allowed to brandish a club at the drunks.

He'd always kind of wanted to do that.

But Fletcher was staring out the window, and as an older brother it was his job to support him and jolly him out of his funks.

"What's up, Fletcher?" he asked.

Fletcher jumped. "Um, nothing," he said. "I was just taking a break."

"Yeah, Fletch," Russel said, "I know. But you're distracted, too. What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Fletcher said, and Russel could hear the lie. He also could hear the determination not to tell the truth either.

"All right," he said, letting it pass. He decided to take a break himself, and pulled out a half-finished letter. Dipping his pen in the inkwell, he asked, "Anything you want to say to Belsio?"

Fletcher spun to face Russel, his eyes wide. "Belsio?"

"Yes, I'm writing him a letter," Russel said. "A telegram's all right, but I think he might still worry a bit. Besides, what's a journey if you don't write to the people back home?"

Fletcher glanced from the pen and paper to his brother, and back again. "Could I write a letter?"

"Sure," Russel said. "We can buy stamps for them when we post them. Who are you going to write to?"

"Alphonse Elric." Fletcher grinned. "I want to tell him _I'm_ having a journey too!"

Russel pushed a smile onto his face, ignoring the sudden pang in his chest. "Sure thing. He'll probably love to hear from you."

* * *

The Elric brothers were turning into the small house they were staying in while they were staying in Central when they noticed the small metal flag on their mailbox that indicated when they had mail was up. Ed stalked over to the box, pulling it open stiffly.

He hadn't been in a bad mood the past ten days, no way. His current annoyance was due entirely to That Bastard Mustang and his incessant twitting. It had nothing to do with the way Russel Tringham had slipped away, almost unnoticed, from his party and then out of Central. Nothing at all to do with the way that boy-shaped will-o'-the-wisp had drifted in, pure and innocent and utterly adorable, and then tracelessly drifted out again.

He had not hung over Al's shoulder when he telephoned the Tringham's guardian in Xenotime to find out if the boys had gotten back there safely. He had been in the room, yes, but he'd been sitting quite far in, and it was entirely a coincidence as well. So there. And he had _not_ been worried when Belsio had told them that Russel and Fletcher had decided to stop off in another town on their way back home. He was _not_ fretting over the sort of dangers two innocent boys who hadn't ever even been out of their hometown or the safer parts of Central could find themselves in. He was _not_ concerned about the Tringham brothers _at all_.

Al had no idea what he'd done during their long quest. He wasn't ashamed of himself -- he'd needed touch, affection, reassurance that he was still alive, still human. He'd not taken any unwilling lovers, and he'd made sure he neither promised anything nor implied he'd meant anything other than a night of pleasure. Still... the single night he'd spent with Russel Tringham stood out among tens of others, marked with a sense of honesty and a strange purity. He'd looked forward to seeing the boy again, away from a group of well-wishers and casual lovers.

And then he'd blinked and Russel was gone.

The letter was addressed to Al and it was in a handwriting that Ed didn't recognise. Al accepted cheerfully and slit the envelope open as Ed unlocked the door.

"Brother! It's from Fletcher!"

Ed swore in German as his flesh hand slipped and banged hard against the lock.

"I don't know what those words are but I'm sure they're not nice," Al said serenely as his brother massaged the side of his hand against his chest. Ed pointedly said Nothing At All until they were both safely inside.

Al unfolded the three pages of paper. "Fletcher says that they're staying in a little town called Whitesands... Russel's got a job serving drinks in the local bar in the evening... You all right, Brother?"

"I'm fine," Ed replied, forcibly dismissing the image of the drunken regiment all hitting on the shy and awkward Russel from his mind.

"He says Russel has got lots of people chasing him."

"I'll bet."

"But he hasn't got a boyfriend or a girlfriend yet. They're spending all their time researching."

"Well, they are alchemists." Still, Ed felt a sudden lightness. How much trouble could Russel get into in a library? He conveniently ignored all the memories that rose up to point out that actually, Russel could get into quite a lot of trouble in a library, after all _he_ had, hadn't he? Russel was an entirely different kind of person.

"There isn't that much in Whitesands's library, though, so they're not going to stay much longer."

"They'll probably be glad to get home."

"Um... they're not planning to go home, Brother."

"WHAT?"

Al hastily stepped back. "Um... Fletcher says this is a research journey and they're not finished yet, so they're going to go somewhere else and study there a bit."

"If they need to study, WHY DIDN'T THEY STAY IN CENTRAL?!?" Ed felt the momentary calm conferred by the presence of the letter, and its implicit reassurance of its writer's and his brother's safety, vanish.

Al blinked and ducked. "I -- I don't know, Brother!"

"Humph!" Ed stalked over to the stairs. "Well, come on, Al!"

"'Come on'?" Al echoed, in a confused tone of voice.

"We can't let the Tringhams get ahead of us! We have to pack! We're leaving for Whitesands in the morning!"

Al grinned, and beat his brother upstairs.

* * *

"Ready to go, Fletcher?"

"Yes, Brother!"

Russel looked around the tiny platform of the Whitesands train station as the train chugged in. "Goodbye Whitesands, you've been nice," he murmured, and climbed aboard. "Farenlicht, here we come."

* * *

"So they were here and now they're not."

"Yep, that's what I said. Shame too. Pair of cute boys like that, need to get married and settle down afore every girl in town starts getting strange ideas. Or some of the boys."

"Some of the _boys_? How does that--"

"You don't need to know, Al. So, mister, where'd they go?"

"Dunno. They didn't say. Just that they were goin'."

"Brother? Brother, are you feeling all right? Mister, have you got a paper bag or something?"

"Hit him on the back, laddie. That's how you fix a purple face."

* * *

Farenlicht was a town noted for its turnips, its coal and the lack of height among its residents. Russel felt like a giant amongst the short miners, and like a pretentious lordling with lily-white skin when confronted with the grimy appearance that the coal dust from years of coal mining ground into the miners' skins.

It didn't take long for the Tringham Brothers to work out that the height problem (or rather, the lack-of-height problem) was due to the long hours the miners were forced by the mine's owner to work, causing the men to go underground before dawn and not letting them out until well after sunset. The vitamin deficiencies caused thereby were quite fascinating. If Russel hadn't been dedicated to healing, he could have spent years studying the effects.

Because he _was_ dedicated to healing, though, it took he and Fletcher five weeks of solid work (in between bartending shifts; the pub had been hiring and Russel was experienced and preferred dealing with drunks than mine owners) to devise a self-perpetuating compost formula that would put the needed vitamins into the turnips the town subsisted on.

Seeding the town's vegetable gardens took another week; neither Fletcher nor Russel were willing to break into people's backyards to deliver the compost, so they had to convince the goodwives of the town to accept the stuff themselves.

It was only after another week, and several sudden cases of growth spurts among the younger miners, that Russel and Fletcher began to seriously think about leaving. Believing there was no more need for them and their research at this point, the Tringhams caught a train out of town.

Before they left, Fletcher wrote to Al and described the whole situation and chain of events. This letter would later prove invaluable as motive evidence when the case of the Farenlicht Riots came up and the military hierarchy began to ask such questions as, what was the Fullmetal Alchemist doing haring off to Farenlicht, and why on earth had he been a primary organiser of the initial strike anyway?

But this account is of the Evergreen Alchemist and the Greenleaf Alchemist and not the Farenlicht Riots (of which many full books have been written, several examining the catalystic nature of their role), so we shall move on, as they did.

* * *

_Dear Al,_

_Here we are in a town called Pinegroves. It is, as you'd imagine, surrounded by pine trees. The conifer forests are really lovely this time of year, but the sort of animal life they support is really limited. Brother says it's an effect of monoculture and that diversification in support structures is necessary for healthy plurality further up the food chain and has been going around planting acorns and chestnuts whenever he doesn't think I'm looking._

_Things here have been pretty quiet. There hasn't been much going on here, if you don't count the town picnic where Brother was guilted into running the kissing booth for an hour (it was amazing how popular it was, but it seemed to slack off into the afternoon; Brother just gets a funny look on his face when I say that)._

_There's been a rash of thefts all through the town. Some people say that it's the work of the famous thief Psiren. Others say it's someone local. Brother says it's a bloody nuisance, and that I am not to say that word to anybody. (But I'm not saying it when I write it, am I?) Personally I think that's because of what happened a couple of nights ago. He's joined one of the volunteer squads to track the thief down and his squad actually managed to find her. But just as they did, she jumped down into the middle of them, kissed Brother full on the lips and then dashed away while he was still in shock. He went after her but she managed to get away again._

_Brother didn't tell me any of that, by the way. I got it off the other squad members. Brother just said that they'd almost got her, and blushed a bit when he said it._

_A couple of other squads are asking about borrowing Brother or I now, or maybe some of the handsomer boys in town, to use as Psiren-bait. Brother however says "No!" and that he's not going to let me give my first kiss to a thief. I asked him about the kissing booth and he just blushed and said that hadn't been his first kiss, but when I asked him who his first kiss had been he blushed harder and said that that was private._

_So, do you have any ideas on how I can worm it out of him?_

_In other news, Brother is learning how to play the guitar! One of his admirers gave him one and he got a book out of the town library on how to play it. The constant scales are boring but he was able to plunk out a couple of nursery rhymes by memory yesterday, so he's getting better!_

_We'll probably stay a couple more weeks, until this thief is behind bars. Brother is determined to catch her. I'm not going to think about why._

_I hope everybody in Central is in good health. Brother says to tell your brother "Hello" from him, and NOT to show him the rest of the letter, and that I don't need to know why he just said that. Brother is weird sometimes._

_Your friend,  
Fletcher Tringham_

* * *

"SOMETIMES?! How about ALL the time?! And what the hell does he think he's playing at, kissing every girl in town? That Tringham boy is going to... AAARGH! Al! We're --"

"Going to Pinegroves, Brother?"

"EXACTLY!"

"We can't, Brother. Remember what General Mustang said about haring off on wild goose chases after last time?"

"But if Psiren's on the loose in Pinegroves --"

"It probably isn't her, Brother. And you're not after her anyway. The one you want to catch is Russel Tringham, isn't it?"

Ed stared at his brother.

"I looked it up in the Central Library after we got back from Whitesands, why the old man said some of the boys wouldn't get strange ideas if Russel was married," Al continued. "Lieutenant Schiezca was very helpful. She pointed me at the right section and explained some things the books didn't. After I realised what that old man meant, it explained quite a bit about you, too."

Ed swallowed convulsively. "Um... Al... you weren't involved. It wasn't meant to affect you --"

Al smiled serenely. "It didn't, Brother. But," and here the smile slipped away, "you've got to start being honest with yourself. You know why Russel is doing this, don't you?"

Ed blinked at this sudden turn of direction. "Huh? What? He's off on a research journey. He and Fletcher said so, remember?"

Al shook his head. "Oh, Brother. He's off researching because he's finding a place for himself. You didn't see him at your welcome-home party, did you?" Al didn't wait for Ed's reply. "He was completely out of his depth! Everyone was nice to him but nobody knew him and he didn't know anyone. _I_ didn't know anyone there except the military personnel and the Tringhams! They were all people you'd met on your journey through Amestris. It wasn't your fault, but you see, don't you? He felt like he was a small and unimportant part of someone else's life, so now he's trying to build the foundations to becoming important himself."

"But he IS important!" Ed burst out. "He gave us the key to real breakthroughs in our research! And what he was doing in Xenotime was necessary! He was --"

"The Tringhams were _our_ support," Al broke in. "Who was theirs?"

He was met with a blank stare. "Eh?"

"Who reads their research? Who talks about them? What's their reputation like? Do either of them have a title? How good are they really?" Al shrugged. "We can't do anything for them until they finish their journey, Brother, but after that, I think we should start pulling strings. Get them to write some monographs and get them published and then openly reference them. We know they're good. It's time we told the rest of Amestris, don't you think?"

Ed slowly nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, we can do that. And you're right, we'd really undermine them if we showed up in Pinegroves and caught Psiren for them." He let his frown twist his lips. "But I really don't like it. It'd be easier for them to both research and publish here in Central. We really need to tell them that and get them back here." He shot Al a glance from under his eyebrows. "You don't like Fletcher being out there starting revolutions and kissing girls any more than I like Russel doing it, either."

Al blushed. "BROTHER!"

* * *

Russel was strumming away on his guitar, picking notes at random and taking turns with Fletcher at making up lyrics on the fly as the Tringham brothers waited for the train. It wasn't grating on the ear, but both were well aware that they were much better off sticking to their day jobs. They'd managed to attract a small group of equally bored travellers at their end of the platform who were not unhappy for the entertainment.

"_I've been all over / picking fruit in Farenlicht/ buried seed corn in Sarensa / and from Hatrick done a-flit,_" Fletcher sang softly.

"Does that scan?" asked Russel, breaking into his own verse. "_They still miss me in Marinta / and think of me in Daricall / I wandered through Wardell / and left friends behind in Vall._"

"Really? You never write to them," Fletcher shot back. "_Don't know where I'll be tomorrow / all I really own's my hat / maybe next I'll visit mountains / see if there's one that's flat_."

"Ha very ha, Fletcher. _When you've got itchy feet / guess there's nothing else to do / but to put a pair of boots on / and wander off into the blue_."

"Do you think this is the smartest thing to do, Brother? _I've never been to the ocean / they say it's really rather nice / I'll see if I can learn to swim / or if I'll drown in a trice_."

"Don't you want to see him again? _I've got sand in my fingers / sand in my toes / sand in my hair / and where else do you suppose?_"

"Bro-THER!"

* * *

The Elrics were sitting down to dinner when the doorbell clanged.

"I'll get it," Al said, putting his napkin down beside his plate and getting up. Ed sat back, resigned to waiting an extra five minutes to start (he might like his food, but Tricia Elric had raised her boys to have good table manners).

"FLETCHER? RUSSEL?" Al's voice shrieked from the foyer, and Ed raced to the front door to see the Tringhams standing there on the front doorstep.

"Come in, come in!" Al declared, and swiftly ushered the Tringhams in. As they were stripping off their coats, Ed hung back and drank in the first sight he'd had of Russel in six months.

The other boy was still slender, but stockier than he had been; his chest had broadened and his shoulders muscled up. His skin was not as tanned as it had been; Russel's succession of indoor jobs had let the sunkissed tint fade until he was more pale than Ed himself. He was still taller than Ed, but not by nearly so much anymore. Still, he was still recognisably _Russel_ and Ed felt half the twanging tension he'd been carrying leach away.

"We're not sure where to go next," Russel was saying, in response to Al's query. "We thought we'd come by, see you and everyone else we met here in Central, and make up our minds what to do from here."

"You'll stay here, of course," Al said firmly. "Hotels are expensive and we have the room. In fact, you're just in time for dinner. Come and eat and tell us everything."

* * *

Fortunately for all four, Al had not only cooked a stew for dinner that evening, he had deliberately cooked a double quantity, intending to put half of it into the alchemically-chilled cupboard the Elrics kept their perishable foods in, for the next night's meal. So there was more than enough for all four young men to eat, and as they did for the Tringhams to fill in the details from Fletcher's letters.

After laughing at the account of The Great Cat Hunt (they had come away with the moral that when a little old lady asks you to help her hunt for her cat, make sure said cat is not actually a still-mostly-feral feline creature that isn't actually a housecat), which absorbed the attention and meal time, Al took Fletcher up to settle in his room, announcing that Russel could stay with Ed. Both the older boys were left with the washing up, which was done in an awkward silence.

As they were starting the wiping up, Ed began, "Russ --" while at the same time Russel said, "Ed --"

Both stopped and Russel said, "You first."

Ed nodded. "I'm glad you're okay."

"Yeah, so am I. And I'm glad everything here's okay, too."

Ed swiped at a pot with his teatowel. "Central has the best research library in the country. If you needed to research, why didn't you stay here?"

Russel sighed, rubbing a glass dry. He'd known this question was coming. "Because that's not an adventure."

Ed dried a plate, the control needed to keep from cracking the china allowing him to keep a rein on his temper. "An adventure."

"Yeah. I don't know if you realised it, but your stories - they sound really fun. _Really_ fun. Fletcher and I -- we never really got to have much fun like that in Xenotime, and the chance was there, so we took it. We didn't use anybody's names but our own and we didn't start any trouble --"

"Fun. Trouble." Ed carefully put the plate down. "IT WASN'T THE LEAST BIT FUN! AND I BET YOU NEVER HEARD OF THE FARENLICHT RIOTS!"

"The... what?"

"Your little vitamin formula made the people of Farenlicht realise just how badly the mine owner was treating them! I arrived and I had to calm them down from an all-out attack on the mine owner to a simple strike, and then the mine owner hired mercenaries and the army was called in and it was all a freakin' mess AND WHOSE FAULT WAS IT DO YOU THINK?"

"What? But it was just a supplement meant to make them healthy! You should've sent word that you were coming. We must've just missed each other. Although it might have been harder to see you... shorty."

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SHORT YOU COULD MISS HIM IN AN EMPTY ROOM??" Ed roared. "The point is, you idiot, that your actions have consequences. LOTS of consequences! You provided the cause of the Farenlicht Riots. Sarensa's having a boom year thanks to your field treatment. Daricall has had to begin public alchemy contests after that stint you did as a substitute teacher in that primary school - do you _know_ how many people for how many years have been calling for an academy of alchemy outside of government supervision? With those kids you gave them a focus and now it looks like it might actually happen! I'm not even going to go into what's happening in Wardell because of you! It's getting to the point where the Evergreen Alchemist wanders into town and the local government breaks out the riot gear! Did you know there was one senator who wanted to put a price on your head?!"

"What?"

"Don't 'what' at me, it's true! You -- you --" Ed gulped. "You just left and you didn't tell me where you were going and the way you've just wandered in and started things off, how long before something went boom in your face? And I wouldn't be there to protect you or help you, because you never tell me where you are."

Russel put down his teatowel, turning to face the other youth. "Ed, listen. You don't have to protect me. I'm a grown-up -- I'm seventeen now, I'll be eighteen in two weeks. If something happens to me, well it's my own fault, isn't it? You're not responsible for my decisions. So you have no need to shield me from anything and you have no need to feel guilty about me." He grinned suddenly. "So, the 'Evergreen Alchemist', huh? A bit better than 'Fullmetal', I suppose. Now, how did I get it? They only give titles to State Alchemists, and I've only ever impersonated one."

"It's what they were calling you in Sarensa when I turned up," Ed said sulkily. "I _stupidly_ mentioned it in my dispatches back to Central and when I got back it was all over the place here, and it's spread from there. I blame That Bastard."

"Hmm."

"And I do have to protect you. If you'd never met me, you'd still be safe in Xenotime. You were only travelling because you'd seen me do it, so it's my fault and my responsibility. Besides, I'm older than you, I'm supposed to look after you."

Russel picked up the teatowel. "You know," he said conversationally, "I could tie this into a noose around your neck _right now_."

Ed picked up the big knife Al had used to chop the vegetables. "You could _try_."

Both boys looked at each other, taking a step closer.

Neither would remember, later, who had taken the first step - whether Ed had stood up on his toes or if Russel had bent his head down. The fiery words became a fiery kiss and all the tension between them suddenly slipped from its position and wove around them instead, till the only place where either could be was in the other's arms.

The kiss was not long, because Russel was too inexperienced to have the trick of breathing through his nose yet. Ed felt obscurely pleased by this as he demanded, "My bedroom. NOW," and Russel nodded.

* * *

Al and Fletcher flattened themselves against the wall just outside the kitchen door as their older brothers rushed past. Neither of the two looked back and saw their eavesdroppers.

"Well, _that_ went well," Al said with satisfaction.

"How did you know that they were, um, interested in each other?" Fletcher asked quietly.

Al blinked and looked at him. "You didn't?"

"I knew Brother admired your brother," Fletcher said in a small voice, "and I knew Brother didn't really think about girls very much, but I always thought that was because he was so busy looking after me and whatever it was that we were doing at the time. I never really thought it was because he already loved someone." He drew patterns with his finger on the wooden table. "I feel awfully stupid for missing it."

Pulling the bread and a block of cheese out of the chilled cupboard, Al plonked them down in front of Fletcher. "I know what you mean. I felt like that when I worked it out too."

"You did?" Fletcher asked, beginning to slice the cheese.

"Yep. It was only a few months ago. After we went to Whitesands to try to see you, one of the old men there said some of the boys of the town had crushes on Russel, and Brother went absolutely spare. I felt so dumb when I first worked out why. On the other hand, they _were_ trying to not let us find out." Al finished slicing off eight pieces of bread and started rewrapping the remaining loaf before putting it and what remained of the cheese back.

Fletcher began assembling the sandwiches. "It seems odd -- I mean, I know how sex works for a boy and a girl. Brother told me and there was this book, too. But how does it work with two boys?"

"There are books on that, too," Al told his friend, feeling a blush unaccountably begin stealing up his cheeks. "I could tell you, as well."

"Would you?" Fletcher asked, through his sandwich.

"Um. Yeah. Sure," said Al. He thought of what he'd read in the book, and where before he'd always vaguely pictured his older brother and Russel in the positions described, he had a sudden, clear image of Fletcher, nude and slender, proudly erect and sweating heavily, crying out as Al's touches brought him pleasure -- and wondered if this sudden rush of heat through his body was anything like what his brother was feeling right then.

* * *

The next morning brought four bleary-eyed boys to the breakfast table.

Ed and Russel had gotten very little sleep the night before, for obvious reasons. Al and Fletcher had also slept poorly. After Al had explained the mechanics of what Russel and Ed were doing next door, the two younger boys had tried to settle into sleep. Fletcher's mind was awhirl with new information and possibilities, while the concept of certain possibilities with his new roommate unsettled Al enough to make him too restless to sleep. At that point, Ed appeared to have taken it as a personal mission to make Russel scream as long and as loudly as possible. Sleep had not made an appearance till some hours later.

"So what are you going to do?" Ed asked, dispensing hot tea to the table.

"More research," Russel said. "For starters, the rate of healing under non-hospital conditions can be improved dramatically -- look at the rate of healing _in_ hospitals -- and we're going to find a key to it."

"Why not write up some of the things you've done, as well?" asked Al. "Publish the formula for that enriching compost, or the education techniques you used with those kids. The reports say they were doing quite sophisticated repairs by the end of that fortnight."

"I like that idea," Fletcher said. "Let's publish the compost recipe. Then nobody will be able to take it away from the miners or anyone else."

Russel nodded. "All right." He looked over at Ed and Al. "Do you mind if we stay with you a while?"

"No," the Elrics chorused.

"This'll be fun," Al said cheerfully.

"You can assist me in my researches," Ed said magnamaniously.

"Like hell," Russel replied. "You can help in mine."

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

This fic originally started out when on an ML I'm a member of, people were talking about slut!Ed (mostly in relation to Roy Mustang). My FMA Ed-pairing of choice, though, is Ed and Russell Tringham, and I decided to try to see how slut!Ed might get together with Russel. There's a lot of valid psychological reasons for slut!Ed, so I had to think of good reasons _why_ slut!Ed might fall for Russel.

And then I had to think about why Russel would fall for Ed, and that led to thoughts about power imbalances in relationships and wish fulfilment in partners and how and why the Tringhams had wanted to be the Elrics in the first place... and that led to this fic.

I hope you all enjoyed it.


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